Death isn't the Last Chapter
A letter to my mom on Easter...
Last week was a week where I just wanted you here. One of those weeks where I felt like your presence alone would’ve made everything better. One of those weeks where the past felt a lot more like the present. Where the grief was raw, and in my mind’s eye, I saw your death more than I saw your life.
And today is really no different, except that it is. The facts remain the same as they were last week. Even on Easter, when the message of hope, of life over death, rings loud and clear, the ache is still there. And that’s okay. I can ache and still be filled with hope. After all, that’s what the resurrection made possible.
Death wasn’t the end of the story. Where we were ready to close the book and say ‘the end’, Jesus changed the plot entirely, and a story of death became a story of life.
And that got me thinking because of where my mind’s been lately, where I’ve closed the book on your story, Mom, at death instead of reading it until the end. I thought about how even though you’ve left, your story still remains. It still lives, and it still matters because death wasn’t the last chapter. Death wasn’t the end of your story, and your death isn’t the end of mine either.
So, I’ll celebrate a new story that was written for you and for me. I’ll celebrate the hope that exists right alongside the pain and know that you are celebrating too. Happy Easter, Mom.